Get Your Shit Together
by WritingStoriesEveryday
Summary: Ana as a recent college graduate starts working with her dream job and in a good apartment in a city that she loves. The only problem is that Kate had to move out and now she is living in an apartment that is way to big for a person. Who's going to be her new roommate? Slightly OOC and AU. No BDSM.
1. Step 1 - Getting a Roommate

Hello everyone, long time no see!

So, this is a story about Christian and Ana (don't worry). But I've changed the premise slightly from the books. Christian and Ana or the same age or at least there isn't as big of an age difference! In other words, now when Anastasia has just graduated college, Christian is just getting attention from the media as he is getting closer to become a billionaire. There are also some other slight changes from the original story and the characters that you'll find out as the story progresses.

I also want to give a little disclaimer. I don't work with publishing and really don't know anything about how it works on the business side of thing. Because of that, there is a very high possibility that certain statements and so on are incorrect. I want to apologize beforehand. Also, there won't be a BDSM storyline. This because in my story 'One for the rode' I felt like I couldn't represent or make an accurate representation of the lifestyle. Therefore, instead of giving false and potentially misrepresenting key aspects of the lifestyle I've chosen to just let that side of the story slide.

Regarding the upload schedule, I don't know if I'll be able to upload as often as I would like. I love writing but my plate is sort of full having two jobs and studying full-time in college. I'll soon go on summer break and then I'll be able to post more regularly.

Hope you like the new story! Feedback is very much appreciated. And as always, I hope that you have a good day/night wherever in the world you are in.

* * *

 **Step 1 – Finding a Roommate**

Who thought that finding a dependable roommate to live with would be this difficult? I got the job and an apartment that is way to big now that Kate left for the big apple. Kate and I bought an apartment near Pike Market Place together right after graduation. This was obviously before she got an internship offer at the New York Times. Unfortunately, my birth fathers mother had died before graduation and left me an inheritance that was enough to pay for my half of the apartment. I never knew her personally because my mother and she fought ever since my birth father died. Apparently, she thought my mother moved on too quickly from her son with my (adoptive) father Ray. So, she refused to speak to her and in consequence me as well. As her only living relative, I got a substantial amount of money that all went to this apartment. Therefore, I have no money saved up and I'm in desperate need of a roommate for at least a year, until Kate comes back from her internship.

So, that's the reason why I'm spending my free time with looking through applications that people sent in through the various ads that I've posted online. Every e-mail that I've read gives me the heave Jeeves. Every single applicant seems either sketchy or too weird. Thank god for social media because without it I've probably been living with a pothead or a serial killer. Why did Kate have to get an internship on the other side of the country? I'm of course very happy for her. That's a huge deal. But, still, if I'm being completely honest I still wish that she would've chosen the Seattle Times.

I've managed to get a job at a publishing house in Seattle as a cover designer. I've always loved to read, I read everything really, but my absolute favorite genres are the classics, especially the English classics and YA. There is something so hopeful and sweet in young adult fiction and when written well inspiring. The books that the youth read can have a direct impact on their lives. They can find their role models and even be inspired by other aspects of their lives - all from professions to ideas of how they can make the world a better place. I've always realized that the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover' although good-hearted is inevitable. Appearance, whether it be a book cover or a person, is the first thing you notice about them. A good first appearance can spark curiosity which in turn can become a book sale or a first date or a friendship. So, my mission in life is that people do judge the book by its cover and that it actually makes people want to read it.

I sit on the uncomfortable sofa that we bought from IKEA that squeaks every time I move as I scour the internet for someone, anyone, that looks promising. And as a last resort, I search Craigslist. I'm not hoping for much but I'm desperate. It takes me 10 ads to find someone that looks promising. Elliot is searching for someplace to live for a few months until he gets back on his feet. The ad doesn't go into detail about what happened but says that he is looking for a room or a couch to sleep on the coming few months. I write a quick e-mail to the e-mail address listed as contact where I write a bit about myself, that I'm interested in having him as a roommate and ask him to meet for a coffee someplace to discuss the potential of living together for a while. Just as I hit the send button on the screen my phone starts to ring. It's Kate.

"Hey" I say into the phone.

"Hey there good looking," Kate says. "How's the roommate business going?"

"Bad. I can't find anyone decent. A guy thought It would be a good idea to send a dick pic so that I could inspect the goods before I commit."

"Yikes. But, Ana, what did you expect? People are crazy."

"I know! But, I was really hoping to find someone that wasn't that bad." I sigh.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, but I think that I perhaps found someone... on Craigslist."

"Craigslist?! That's a pothead for sure! Are you sure that you couldn't get by on your own? I mean you have a job so you'll have your salary soon..."

"I'll barely make it, Kate. I'm basically an assistant to the current creative director. My salary isn't that great. Besides if the Craigslist guy works out he'll only be here for a few months. More than enough time for me to get together my emergency savings and start paying off my debt."

"Are you sure? This doesn't really feel right with me."

"Yes, I'm sure. Now tell me about you."

"I'm paying way too much for what is essentially a glorified closet."

"I can imagine." I laugh as she starts telling me about her work and the articles she is getting to write.

"Honey, you know that I could always call my dad and he'll be more than happy to help you."

"I know, Kate. But I want to be independent."

"Yes, I know, trust me. If there is someone that understands the need for independence, it's me. Just remember that sometimes the strongest thing you can do is to ask for help."

Kate's parents love her very much and are very generous. But, ever since her brother Ethan died in a car accident a few years ago they have been overprotective and overbearing. Her own grief combined with her overwhelming parents drove her to reckless behavior. She tried everything to stop thinking about her brother. This happened right when we started hanging out and I tried being there as much as I could. Somewhere along the way, we became one and we have been best friends ever since. She has since retired from her party girl persona and delt with her grief. She is now a kickass newbie journalist that knows how to have a good time when the time is right.

"Yes, mom." I laugh. "When did you become this wise? I'm supposed to be the brains in this duo."

"Haha," She deadpanned "But, I don't know. I don't like it. We're supposed to be young, wild and free right now not young, wise and boring."

"Dear Kate, you could never be boring. Not even if you tried."

"Ah, I knew there was a reason why I kept you around. Keep the flattery coming, I've barely received any compliments today." She jokes.

"Somehow, I doubt that the smart, beautiful and ambitious Kate Kavanagh hasn't received any compliments today."

"Not from people that I actually care about only the regular street harassment."

"Ah, that's sweet… I think."

After talking to Kate for a while I decide to check my e-mail to see if this Elliot has answered. But he hadn't so after finishing off some details on a sketch for work I call it a night and go to bed.

* * *

I HATE being late. I'm that person that's obsessively early to everything and this morning I overslept. After grabbing my backpack and a breakfast bar I rush to work. I don't actully live that far away from work. I usually walk but since I'm late I opt for the buss. In the end, I'm 10 minutes late which in the grand scheme of things isn't too bad. I rush to my desk and drop my backpack on the floor. Just then, my boss, Laura walks in putting a cup of tea and a muffin on top my desk.

"Tough morning?" she asks with a smirk and perfectly shaped and shaded eyebrow. Laura is the kind of person come rain or shine is always put messily together. To work she always wears different types of skirts, most often a pencil skirt that stops just below her knees and dress shirts with crazy prints and in obnoxious colors. The louder the better. I wonder where she finds the shirts? I've never seen them anywhere before. Her black hair is always gathered in a messy bun and her feet are always clad with black high-top converse.

"No," I lie out of breath. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, because you're always here 15 minutes early and because your shirt is inside out." Laura laughs revealing a few smilelines around her eyes. "Relax, kid. We're a small publishing house and besides you and I are the only ones creating the cover art. You have no one to impress, your prototypes you showed me in the interview are enough. Besides you've been working here for almost two weeks. If I wanted to fire you I would've done it by now.

With reddening cheeks, I nod and sigh. "Thank you." Laura sits down across my desk. "Should you really be calling me kid? You're not that much older than me." I continue.

Laura ignored my comment and started discussing new ideas for the new covers for the books who are soon to be published as a starting chewing on a bit of blueberry muffin.

* * *

On my lunch break, I walked to a nearby deli and ordered a meatball sandwich. The sub had the reputation of being Seattle's best and it was rightly deserved. The spices in the meatball themselves were to die for. The bred was fresh but slightly toasted giving a satisfying crunch with every bite. This was very much needed. Looking out the restaurant window I see people walking briskly by. Minding their own business, looking down into the pavement and often with earbuds in their ears, completely secluding them from reality.

Suddenly I remembered that I hadn't checked my phone today. Quickly looking through my new e-mails I soon found that Elliot had indeed replied to my message. He suggested that we meet in a café after work. I took a deep breath as I nervously accepted and continued to eat Seattle's best meatball sub.

"Good work today, Kid." Laura praised as she passed my desk in the afternoon. The day had been hectic as a few of the prototypes are due early next week. It's fascinating to watch Laura work. She has this process that is impossible to describe. She is almost like an organized tornado. Doing everything effectively but somehow managing to misplace things in the process but still remembering where she put them.

"Thanks, you too!" I reply flattered by her compliment. Having not worked here for long I'm still at the stage where I'm walking on needles and pins, petrified of doing something wrong and consequently being fired. "See you tomorrow!"

Laura gave me a sweet smile and proceeded to walk out of our office. I slowly gathered my things hoping to delay the inevitable. How am I supposed to recognize him when I arrive? He didn't send a photo or a description of himself, but I guess there aren't going to be many dudes taking a coffee by themselves… I hope. Too soon are my things in order and I make my way towards the door. The café isn't that far away from work and since I have time to kill I decide to walk.

For every step I take, I feel the almost empty backpack hit my back. The city is glowing with the good weather and people seem overjoyed now the time has come to go home. I'm always amazed by the fact that even though we're all individuals when you walk down the street the differences between people's styles are basically indistinguishable, especially when it comes to working. The men are either wearing suits or business casual outfits such as jeans and a blazer while the women have on various different variations of skirts in modest lengths and business suits. I'm not saying that I'm any better. With a skirt and shirt on can't really complain about others unoriginality. My skirt is pastel yellow though and I have on comfortable low heels, so, that has to count for something.

With a smile, I push the door to the café open. The smell of coffee and confined air hit me as soon as I step inside. The actual café isn't very large. There is only a handful of places where you can sit, and the furniture seems rugged and worn down. Overhead they have huge menus with dozens of options of drinks – everything from lattes to smoothies. The variety of food options is virtually nonexistent because of the fact that they don't seem to have any. This seems to be an only drinks kind of a place. I look around the café searching for anyone sitting alone but there is no one sitting at any of the tables. So, I go an order a smoothie.

I choose to sit by the window and as I sit down I hear the faint sound of generic lounge music playing in the background. It feels like this café stopped trying to be 'hip' a long time ago.

"Hey there, are you Ana?" A handsome blonde man asks me. His blue eyes looking hopeful. And even though I've only heard a sentence from him I know that he isn't one of the weirdos that had previously applied to be my roommate. My nervousness immediately disappears.

"Yeah, are you Elliot?"

He smiles. "The one and only."

I stand up to shake his hand. It feels callous and a bit dry. Elliot excuses himself as he goes to order a coffee. He comes back with a piping hot cup of joe.

"I've never understood people who can drink hot beverages while it's hot outside. Why would you want to be hot on the inside while you're hot on the outside?"

Elliot laughs out loud. "Is this your way of telling me that you think that I'm hot?"

I blush furiously as I laugh awkwardly. "No offense but you're not my type."

"Oh, so what's your type?" Elliot smirks.

"The dark, mysterious and handsome type," I say jokingly as I think of all the characters that I'm most drawn to. That's book characters though. If we're going after people that I've actually dated they've mostly been like Elliot – outgoing and safe.

Elliot laughs again. "Then I have a brother that is exactly your type." He takes a sip from his cup. "But to answer your question I drink hot coffee because I have a theory that if you drink or eat cold stuff your body needs to increase the temperature in your body in order to heat up the cold drink and my body temperature will, therefore, be hotter than before. But, if I drink hot drinks my body needs to become colder. Does that make sense?"

"No." I deadpan. "Wouldn't your body just become the same temperature as your beverage for a few seconds before turning back to normal?"

"Ah, but with that logic, it wouldn't matter whether you drink cold or hot beverages would it? Because your body would just return to the same temperature as before."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Touché."

We start discussing what having each other for roommates would entail. Rent, other expenses and the dividing of house chores. I would happily take the cooking aspect of the chores including the dishes if he is the one to vacuum and dust the apartment (properly) once a week. After that is established we go over general house rules. Except for the obvious respect each other and our separate schedules that we (I) have. Elliot seems to not have a current 9 to 5 job but does the odd job here and there until he figures out what he wants to do. Houseguests are welcome and if they stay the night… try to be quiet. That's basically it.

"Can ask you something, Elliot?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"How come that you don't live at your parents' house or friends or even your brother's until you find something on your own?"

"I'm 26. I don't want to be the loser that lives at my parent's house. My friends are either married or single and live like we're still in college. Which I did for a while… girls, booze and partying all the time took its toll and it doesn't really have the same appeal anymore you now? I'm not saying that I want anything serious right now, but I just feel like I'm at a turning point in my life and that I need to sort my shit out."

I nod and give him an encouraging smile." That still leaves out your brother though."

"Well, I don't want to cramp his style. I should be the one taking care of him and not the other way around."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Someone very special to me told me that 'sometimes the strongest thing you could do is to ask someone for help'"

"That's true." Elliot nods. "Are you not sure you want to do this anymore? Sounds like your trying to convince me not to be your roommate," he asks concerned.

"Oh, no. It's not that. I'm just curious. When do you want to move in?"

"As soon as possible! I'm currently living at my friend's house, but he is a pig. I'm looking forward to not living there anymore."

"Well, if you'd like you can come over now and look over the apartment before you agree to anything. Then if you still want to this then you can move in on Friday if you'd like."

"That sounds perfect," Elliot says as he drinks the last of his coffee.

* * *

"So, this is the kitchen and the living room/dining room. Those two doors are the bedrooms. That one is mine and the other one is yours. We have a mutual bathroom that connects from both the rooms and an extra bathroom over there. That one doesn't have a shower though…"

Elliot walks around the apartment looking very satisfied. "Friday can't come soon enough." He smiles at me."What do I need to sign?"

"Well, the contract as I told you on the e-mail is for a year. Do you want to sign now?"

"Yes." He nods eagerly.

"Give me a second and I'll go and print it out." I start to walk towards my room where my computer and printer are when I remember that I don't have Elliot's full name. "By the way, what's your full name? So, that I can write it down on the contract." Kate's dad had his lawyers draw up a contract so both I and my future roommate would be protected if something were to happen.

"Elliot Travelyan Grey." I nod.

I write Elliot's name and print out two copies. The sound of my heels following me to the kitchen as I walk towards him. "Here you go. Read it over at your own pace and give it back to me by Friday."

"Okay, then I'll take this with me on Friday. I'll ask my father to look it over he's a lawyer. It isn't that I don't trust you, but you know just in case."

"It's not a problem, Elliot. I understand. Take your time and if you still want to move in on Friday then call me or e-mail me by tomorrow."

"Sure, thing. Then I'll better get going." Elliot comes towards me offering me his hand. "Thank you, Ana! You won't regret this."

"I really hope so," I say under my breath as he walks out the front door and leaves me alone in our soon shared apartment.


	2. Step 2 - Get Ducks in a Row

**Step 2 - Get Ducks in a Row**

Elliot's POV

I leave Ana's place feeling more hopeful that I've felt in months. I've tried to not show her how much this really means to me, afraid of scaring her off. But, the reality is that I haven't felt like myself in months. I'm usually a cheerful guy, the life at the party but lately, I've been more like a drag… almost like Christian, haha. The last thing this family needs are to broody and moody children. Can you imagine the Sunday dinners? They would be unbearable.

The prolonged PMS on my part started about a year ago. After I had graduated college with a major in engineering I didn't know what to do with my life. The job hunt didn't go well, as expected with my poor attitude which showed in my GPA and in general. I gave off the impression that I didn't really care, and to be honest I really didn't. I just felt that I'd been riding this wave that consisted of expectations and pressure that all mostly came from me. My parents did have high expectations, of course, given that my dad's a lawyer and that my mother is a pediatrician. But, they never really pressured me about it. What I mean is that they didn't expect perfection, just that we went to a good college. Which I did. And as I went to college I had the expectation that I would come home to a great job from the get-go. I mean how hard can it be? I'm a Grey, basically Washington socialite royalty. Turns out that reality is a cruel mistress because she fucked me over and slapped me right in the face. The job hunt didn't lead me anywhere, not even my mom or my dad could help the poor reputation I had. Not one single offer came my way. My reputation of not caring and just partying through life with copious amounts of alcohol and girls had spread all the way to the west coast.

So, instead of going out and searching for a job myself I gave up. My reasoning is that if my parents couldn't give me a job then nobody could. Strategy to overcome this difficulty? Partying… harder than I had ever done before. I didn't have my own house or apartment, so, I just lived at people's sofas and stealing their food when they weren't looking hoping that they wouldn't notice. I was basically like a leech. It was even better if I had managed to have a one-night stand because it was a free meal, both sexually and physically. The trick is to wake up early enough to leave before the woman wakes up. That is because of the simple reason that if she is awake then there is the high probability of it becoming awkward and her expecting a call. The problem with that wasn't the expectation of a date, they were nice girls from what I could remember, but, I was living I lie. On the outside, I felt more and more like a fraud, because I was living like a man that seemed like he had everything figured out but that wasn't the case. I was petrified that somebody would reveal my sham.

In walks Maven. We met at a party and we just clicked. She had long red hair that curled at the ends and freckles on her button nose. Her smile could make ice-cream melt in seconds. She radiated kindness and love. Everyone was drawn to her, including me. We started talking on my friend's sofa over drinks. I don't remember what we were talking about just that I felt like she just understood. That she instinctively had known that something was up, just as I had known that something was up with her. She listened and for the first time since I'd come home from college, I felt like I had made a friend, a real friend. We ended up sleeping with each other that night.

We had seen each other for a few months. We weren't exclusive, we had more a friend with benefits kind of a deal. She was my best friend. I didn't want a relationship, or at least I wasn't ready for one and everything seemed fine. My philosophy with problems has always been an out sight out of mind kind of approach and so was Mave's. Neither one of us sorted our shit out. We were stuck in this vicious cycle of partying and fucking every night just to forget our problems. Maven had had a difficult childhood. Her step-mother was something out fairytales were their fucking evil. Her real mother had left her and her dad when she was little, claiming that motherhood wasn't for her. Her dad heartbroken and panicked about having to raise a child on his own found the first best partner he could find. What he did find was an ice cold bitch that was jealous of him having a life at all before her. He was supposed to be hers completely and Maven represented his past. So, she took it out on her verbally basically destroying her self-esteem. It wasn't until one night when I saw her popping pills that I knew that it had gone too far and that she needed help. But, I felt like I didn't have the right to say anything to her about it, so, I just kept it bottled inside. Mave had always been a free spirit. She wasn't an addict… she had control over the situation. That's at least what I told myself. A few weeks later her friend and roommate found her passed out on her bathroom floor.

I didn't go to her funeral, I just couldn't. I have visited her grave though. There is this guilt inside me that says that it's partially my fault that she's dead. That if I had just pressed a little harder or said anything at all that she would still be alive right now. Those are questions that we'll never have an answer, though, will they? Funnily the person that helped me most through this whole ordeal was my dickhead brother. My family knew only a little bit about what had actually happened. They knew that Maven was a friend and that she had died from an overdose. They didn't know how close we were or why I took her death so hard. The day of the funeral I sat on my parent's deck overlooking the water. It was a nice day, the sun rays reflected in the water in such a way that it made it appear more silver than dark blue. The weather felt wrong considering that the world had lost someone very special. It was supposed to storm and be extremely windy, or at least rain, but no, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Christian just sat by my side the whole day. No questions, no looks, no expectations. He touched my shoulder just before he sat down and there we were the rest of the day. I didn't find out until later that he had sent a bouquet of flowers to the funeral in my name.

Surprisingly, even though my brother is a dick he is a smart dick. He dropped out of Harvard to start his own company. He had an even rockier relationship with academia than I had. He got kicked out of school two or three times before getting his act together. By some miracle he got into Harvard, I would assume that just like it did for me that the competitive sailing put him in the forefront of applicants. Or maybe or parents had greased some palms, I don't really know. But, he went there for a year and decided that it was a waste of time, so he left. He didn't even discuss it with our parents. He just came home with his bags and business plan that he presented to dad. To say that the pitch didn't go well would be a gross understatement. They fought for months and are only now starting to talk to each other. Christian managed to get a loan from the bank with the help of my mother and my grandfather who agreed to be collateral. His company is currently doing great… I mean his is a fucking millionaire. He paid back the loan with interest and everything shortly after acquiring the loan. And now, he is even starting to gather media attention. Some articles claim that he is Seattle's most eligible bachelor.

To live in his place though makes me feel like a loser though. Especially considering that I'm unemployed and have no fucking clue what I want to do with my life. In my lowest times, I compare myself to Christian and wonder where it went wrong for me. I love my brother, I'm both extremely proud and happy for him regarding his company. But, more often than not, I feel like a hobo compared to him. That's why the contract that I'm currently holding in my hands feels like a lifeline. Like the push in the right direction. And Ana seems like a great girl, she reminds me of Maven and maybe even of Mia. It hurts a little still, to think about Maven but I also think that it always will. I will never be able to pay amends to her or get over the guilt I'm feeling but I can at least try.

As I drive up my parent's driveway I'm thrown by how idyllic the house looked. It looked like it had always looked with its classical architecture and a cozy interior. The whole house looked like something you would find in a fancy magazine for interior design. It probably had been featured at some point. Taking out the key to their place and locking up the door I just let myself in, not bothering to knock on the door. Mia and some of her friends sat in the living room watching some loud reality TV. There were a bunch of cups spread around the table and large platter of untouched cookies. It was funny really that the hospitality that mom had drummed into our heads still had survived to this day. Mia must've known that the cookies would remain untouched. Her friends too concerned with the judgment of each other to dear take a cookie from the plate. I walked into the living room giving Mia a smile and taking a cookie. She is the cutest girl that I ever have seen. She is short, around 5'1, with olive skin and spiky brown hair. Her warm brown eyes always kind and happy.

"Elliot! I didn't know you were coming today." She says enthusiastically.

"Me neither, it was kind of spontaneous. I need to talk to dad. Is he here?" I smile.

"Yeah, in his study. Are you staying for dinner?" Mia asks.

"I don't know. It depends on what's on the menu." I waggle my eyebrows as I walk towards dad's study. I knock before I open the door. He seems concentrated on the documents before him.

"Isn't the point of going home from the office that you get to stop working?" I ask him as I sit down on a chair before him. I never liked sitting here, it makes me feel like I'm in trouble.

"Someone has to work to be able to support you." He answers without looking up from the document. Ouch, that one hurt. Dad sighs and puts the papers straight on to the desk. He rubs his eyes and sighs again. "I'm under a lot of stress right now." He says as an explanation for his comment.

"No, I get it. That's why I'm here actually. Could you read this for me?"

"What's this?" Dad asks as he eyes the document I gave you. "Who's Anastasia Rose Steele?"

"My potential roommate. I've read it myself and it seemed fine but still want to make sure that I don't sell my soul away."

"What's wrong with your brother's apartment? Surely it isn't too small for the both of you." He said thinking of Escala. That place has more than enough space for a family of five and still have rooms to spare for the guests. It's like a palace… in the sky.

"It isn't about that. I'm cramping his style."

"Did he say that?" dad says surprised and a bit irritated.

"No, but I feel it. Dad, he is a 22-year-old who has his loser brother living with him. It's time that I found a place on my own."

"Why not get a place on your own then? Why do you want to live with a random woman?"

"With what money?"

"True." He says. "Am I correct to assume that you're using your trust fund right now?"

"Yes."

"When are you going to use that degree of yours? Elliot, I'm worried about you…"

"About that, I'm glad to report that in the last few days I've been applying for internships and jobs."

"You have? Which ones?"

"All of them, so fingers crossed that someone wants me."

Dad nods and looks thoughtful for a few seconds before looking me in the eye. "So, you're serious about turning your life around?"

"Yes, I am," I say in my most serious tone. The one that I use sparingly so that when I use it people now I'm serious. I'm going to change my life for the better and with any luck make my loved one's lives better. Maven taught me a lesson and I know that if there is some kind of afterlife and if she was watching right now she would smirk at me with an eyebrow almost hitting her hairline with a snarky ass line like "Do you see? Even in death, I need to guide you through life"

Dad gives me a beaming smile and rises up from his chair with his arms spread. He almost looks like a priest welcoming his congregation. "You don't know how long your mother and I have been waiting for you to make that decision." He gives me a fatherly hug which takes me by surprise. I don't think that my father has hugged me since graduation. I've always known that my father loves me, he says it pretty often and he shows it, he just isn't the most huggable person out there. "Stay for dinner, you know how happy that'll make your mother."

"No, I think I'll just go home and start gathering my things. I have to break the news gently to Christian." I say jokingly.

"How is he?" dad says gently and curiously.

"He's good, or at least he's Christian. You know?"

Dad nods and says nothing for a few seconds before sighing. "You know if you just tell him that you regret your decision to not give him the funding he needed and apologize than everything would be alright. You two really need to bury the hatchet."

"I do regret that, but, I do think that my initial reaction was justified, he was dropping out of Harvard for God's sake. The rest was just pride and stubbornness… on both our parts."

"You should tell Christian that, dad. It's incredible you two aren't actually related." I say exasperated.

"Why do you say that?" he says surprised but looking very proud.

"Haven't you thought that maybe the reason that you two fight all the time is that you are too similar? You both are stubborn as fuck and too proud for your own good. You hate asking for help and hate receiving it. Do you even realize how much it took for Christian to actually reach out and ask for your backing? You know how he gets when you think that someone is pitying him because god forbid that someone actually feels empathy for him. I'm sure he feels betrayed even if he would never emit that."

When I look up I look up I see that dad is smiling brightly at me. "Why are you smiling so much?"

"I've never heard you rant before. It's refreshing to know that everything inside you isn't just rainbows and sunshine. It makes you more normal. And you are all my children, we're related by love."

I laugh and put my hand on his shoulder squeezing a little. "You and I both now that no one in our family is normal, especially not me."

* * *

I arrive at Christian's place when the sun has gone down the horizon and the lights started to give off a soft yellow glow. The apartment is quiet, but it isn't dark due to big windows letting in the city lights. I know that Christian isn't home due to the fact that he hates it when it's quiet. There is always something emitting sound, whether it be music, tv or just him sitting by the piano playing. That is something that we have in common, so I walk towards the speakers and press play hoping that something will start playing. I'm in luck as soft indie music comes on. I didn't know he liked indie? He has a broad music taste, but I didn't think that indie was his thing. I walk to the fridge, opening it, looking for something to eat. I'm not even hungry but it's a bad habit that I have, always going to the fridge and checking for something to eat as soon as I get home. I close it quickly after checking its contents and proceed to go the coach. Christian doesn't have any extra channels, other than the standard. He doesn't watch tv, so he doesn't see the point in paying for the additional channels. He doesn't have much of a DVD collection either, claiming that there isn't a point in having them because they just clutter up his space. The dude is pedantic and organized. I bet that even if he didn't have Gail, his new housekeeper, the place would be just as put together, just a bit dustier.

After stepping out of the shower I decided to read a book. I've been reading a lot of self-help books lately. I'm not really an avid reader, but I find that these types of books give me meaning and at least a little bit of guidance. The sound of heavy steps makes me lose my focus. I look up to see my brother walking towards the couch. He looks exhausted and angry.

"I'm so tired of people not taking me seriously because of my age. I'm a fucking millionaire now, I've proven that I can do business. Assholes!" he rants. "What the fuck are you listening to?"

"Are you that surprised? You're only 22 after all. And I don't know I just pressed play."

"That shouldn't be relevant. The thing to consider is my ability, which I've proven since I was nineteen fucking years old when I started my company. Obviously, it's gone well."

"I'm surprised that people want to work with you at all with that ego." I laugh at him and punch him lightly on his arm.

"Shut up, asshole. At least I have a job and my own apartment."

I laugh again. "About that, I'm moving out this Friday. So, you'll get the apartment to yourself again."

"What why? I didn't mean it like that," Christian says hurriedly. "You don't need to leave."

"I know that. But it is time, I need to get my shit together... like you."

"It doesn't feel like that." He sighs.

"What do you mean?" I say confused looking at him like he is crazy. "You have your own apartment; your own company and you've become a self-made millionaire like you keep saying all the time. You're basically the American dream."

"Yeah, but that's just one aspect of my life." He sighs and massages his temples. "I'm realizing more and more that I'm alone. I don't have any friends and no partners. The more successful I am the more suspicious I become to new people that they want something from me."

"I'm here," I say seriously.

"Yeah, but you're my brother. You have to be there for me."

"Nu-uh, we're adopted I don't have to do anything."

Christian laughs. "I guess."

"Just make new friends and start dating. Stop working at a reasonable hour and then we can hang out more. Hell, I can even hook you up with someone."

"Who are you? Mom is that you?!" Christian said jokingly with big eyes. I love when Christian is himself and finally acts his own age. Sometimes I feel like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm getting paid by our parents to spread this propaganda," I say jokingly. "How hard can it be to get you on a date with that face of yours and your shining personality? I mean how hard can it be for Seattle's most eligible bachelor?" I continue making a conscious effort not to mention gender. I had a suspicion that he was straight because I had found porn on his computer. But you never know, maybe that's why he never introduced me, or anyone in our family to his dates.

"What's that most eligible bachelor bullshit?"

"Oh, the Nooz came out with an article today claiming that you were," I say nonchalantly.

"Since, when do you read the Nooz?"

"Since my friends send me the link to the article 10 000 times because they know that we are related." Christian is quiet. "But, my reading habits weren't the thing we were talking about. Come on man, don't hold out on me now. This was going so well. My last date was before Maven, so more than two years ago. Nothing to feel bad about if it's been a while for you as well…"

"Fine. Six months?" No reaction. "One year? Two? Three? Four?" No reaction.

"You have one hell of a poker face, you bastard. Fine, you don't need to tell me." I say disappointed. Christian is generally such a private person. That he has opened up this much tonight is an anomaly and I'm equal parts delighted and freaked out. He is probably my best friend because even though I do have friends, there is no one I trust more than him. Hell, he could call me in the middle of the night and ask me to hide a body and I would still do it.

"Where are you moving?" Christian asks after sitting for a while in silence.

"To this apartment near Pike Market Place with a really sweet girl."

"Don't shit where you eat," he says, "it always ends badly."

"Thank you, Bear Grills, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Should you really be moving in with one of your flings? That could get really messy, really fast."

"I haven't slept with anyone since Maven." I tell him while he looks at chocked "Besides it isn't like that she reminds me too much of both Maven and Mia. She's more of a sister material, or at least for me. You, though, are exactly her type – dark, mysterious and handsome."

"How do you know that if you haven't slept with her?"

"Just because I talk to an attractive woman doesn't mean that I'm fucking her. Yeesh, what do you think of me?"

"That you are a womanizer. I thought you didn't function if you didn't have sex regularly."

"Dude, what are my hands for?"

"Yeah, but, still it can't compare to the real thing."

"No, it doesn't. But that is more a question of connection than the actual orgasm."

Christian nods slowly, agreeing. "I'm going to eat. And I promise that'll I'll help you move out."

"Okay, man. I'll hold you to that." I answer as we walk towards his kitchen to reheat some premade meals.

* * *

Hey!

Hope you liked this chapter! I'm trying to include different perspectives. Let me know what you think!

Have a nice day/night!


	3. Step 3 - Moving In

Firstly, I would like to apolagize for the prolonged abscence of updates. I've been travelling with my family and I haven't had access to any wi-fi and I also forgot my computer at home (I know rookie misstake). But, now I'm back I'm going to try my hardest to update regularly. I hope that you enjoy the story so far.

I hope that you're all well!

Ps: I would greatly appriciate any fanfic recomendations if you have any. Feels like I haven't read fanfiction in forever.

* * *

 **Anastasia's POV**

The day after I met Elliot I got the green light. So, he'll be moving in on Friday afternoon after work. I'm more excited than nervous. I've got a good feeling about this. I've always believed very strongly that you should follow your instincts no matter what they tell you to do, and my instincts tell me that this is a good match. He reminds me of a teddy bear – big, happy and safe. This specific teddy bear seems to have some wear and tear though but that's hopefully something that a few stitches can fix. I'm cleaning up the apartment to make sure that it's welcoming and that Elliot's room looks decent enough. The room is completely empty except for a spacious double bed and a bedside table. The room is white with no kind of decoration and no other furnishings. Hopefully, Elliot will have some of his own furniture with him because the room is seriously scarce. Well, the apartment overall is pretty bare. Kate and I started buying furniture together for the apartment but when she moved that quickly stopped. Since then I haven't had the budget, time or motivation to buy furniture.

The fridge is stocked with the essentials – milk, eggs, some vegetables and the mandatory condiments such as hot sauce and ketchup. The cabinets are emptier but have a few cans and dry goods. Enough to sustain two people for at least a week. I've eaten dinner, and the apartment is clean enough to not be ashamed of living in a sty but not so clean that Elliot thinks that I'm pedantic over cleanliness. So, with this extra time that suddenly opened up, I go to my room and get some art materials since I'm in the mood for painting. When my workstation is all set up on the kitchen island, I go and get my phone and my earbuds to listen to the audiobook that I'm currently listening to which is Nutshell by Ian McEwan. I haven't really made up my mind about it, but it is a really interesting spin on Hamlet.

Grabbing the nearest pen, I start to sketch out some shapes on the white paper. "It's already clear to me how much of life is forgotten even as it happens. Most of it. The unregarded present spooling away from us, the soft tumble of unremarkable thoughts, the long-neglected miracle of existence." Says the voice narrating the audiobook. I stop and reflect on that quietly agreeing before I resume what I was doing. The shapes on the paper have now evolved into angry waves on the ocean. An idea of the finished product evolving in my head. It's going to be a painting of a stormy ocean, all in hues of dark blue, grey and white. Looking over my color selection of oil paint which, thanks to Kate's parents Christmas gift, is quite extensive. Taking out the colors that I want to use I squirt the colors on a big slab of glass that I use a palette.

I don't look up from painting until my neck feels stiff and my ears hurt from having earbuds in. With a sigh, I realize that I stopped listening to the audiobook a long while ago and that I'll need to rewind and re-listen to it. Pausing the audiobook, I quickly look at the time and realize that it's time for bed. So, without further due, I drink a glass of water and start making myself ready for bed. The last thing I think about before drifting off to sleep is ocean sounds and violent storms.

* * *

There is a new guy that started working today at the company. I'm relieved that I'm no longer the newbie at work anymore. Most women in the office seem to think that he is very good looking. He has a scruffy appearance with a slight stubble over his cheeks and icy blue eyes. He has an earring over his left ear and light brown hair that seems darker because of the oils in his hair. Wearing dark wash jeans and a suit jacket he gives of a business casual look. I honestly don't get the fascination. His smiles don't seem genuine and his overall attitude seems cocky and arrogant. Judging by the scowl that covers Laura's usual smile every time she catches a glance of the man she seems to share my feelings.

"That guy gives me a bad feeling," Laura says to me as we work side by side by the lightbox.

"Why do you say that?" I ask her curiously. Does she see the same thing I see?

"He looks at every woman here like she is prey and he is the predator, and not in the sexy, romantic sort of way but in the I'm a psychopath and a serial killer kind of way."

"Huh, I hadn't noticed that," I tell her. "I'll have to pay more attention to that in the future." I try to say diplomatically.

"Oh, come on! Don't give me that crap. I know that you don't like him either." She says forcibly. "You look like you want to puke every time he comes into your vision."

"I do?" I ask surprised, I really thought that I had hidden my feelings toward him better.

"Yeah, so what do you think?"

"That he is arrogant and too cocky. I saw a lot of people like that at college, especially guys, and very few of them can actually back up that kind of arrogance."

"Ugh, tell me about it. I find that guys that are THAT arrogant either have a huge dick that they rely way too much on, or, have a tiny one so that they overcompensate on everything else instead. Manly egos are such a fragile thing…" Laura sighs.

I feel my eyes become as big as saucers. Did my boss just say the word dick on office hours? I know that artsy people are generally more easygoing and free but still… this is an office. I'm not really a prude but her comment really took me by surprise. What if someone hears us? I quickly look around our shared office. My panic is abruptly interrupted by the sound of hysteric laughing beside me. Laura is laughing so hard that tears spring from her eyes.

"You should've seen your face. Oh my god, that was hilarious." She is bending over the table holding her stomach like it would fall out if she doesn't hold into place. Her cheeks are red from laughing and her bun looks more disheveled than usual. Even a button on her mixed pattern blouse has gone up revealing her black lace bra. From what I can see she seems to have a nice pair of breasts.

I start blushing furiously and look down on the lightbox and my design that's slowly coming together. My idea for the cover is to have the profile of a woman and make precise where the eyes and mouth are to reveal the books title and its author. Laura liked the idea. "Relax, kid. It's only us here and the door is closed. We're just exchanging information. But if it makes you feel better we can get back to work." She sighs and takes in a few deep breaths. "Thank you. It was really long time ago I laughed so hard. I really needed that."

"No problem?" I say weekly, not really sure what to say.

"You didn't take offense, did you? I didn't mean it like that! You know we're working very closely so you better become used to inappropriate comments, that's sort of my thing. Good or bad I don't have a filter."

"No, I'm just surprised. I'll keep that in mind." I laugh softly as I overt my gaze back at the lightbox and concentrate on the sketch.

Laura and I sat together at the small company kitchen eating our lunches. She lives in an apartment across town near the sound with two cats. She finds nature relaxing and the city too distracting. She is ten years older than me and loves art and design. Laura is very blunt and loves to laugh. Her laughs are loud and quite obnoxious. They are hard to miss and really infectious. She is constantly joking, more often than not inappropriately and I like her a lot. She is very considerate and makes sure to ask me questions so that she isn't the only one talking which she could very easily do.

I told her about Montesano, my parents and my love for literature and art. My apartment that isn't too far from the office and my recent roommate addition. Which she was very excited about. "I used to live in a house with a bunch of roommates in college. I loved it. We were like an art collective. The only thing we did was study, party and do art. Ah, it was the best time of my life." She raved when I told her about it. Laura had crazy stories about her time in college. She seems like a very easy-going person that rarely says no. Making the clichés such as carpe diem or live each day like it is your last a reality. I, on the other hand, am a massive homebody and don't have that many crazy stories. Generally, I don't take that many risks which make people like Laura and Kate all that more interesting.

As Laura finishes her story about a house party that went very wrong two other coworkers sit down at our table with a sigh. One of them immediately starts talking to Laura about deadlines while the other smiles kindly towards me. I've seen her before. She sits by the front desk and her name is Claire if memory serves me right.

"Your Claire right?" I ask her.

"Yeah, your Anastasia." She answers without skipping a beat.

"Yes, but call me Ana." I smile while she nods.

"So, how do you like it here? Now that you've been here for what… a week?" Claire asks kindly. She has light brown hair and eyes that match her hair shade. With her very businesslike clothes, she almost looks misplaced. She looks like she would fit in better in a corporate environment.

"So far so good. I feel as if I've really found my dream job." I tell her.

"Yourself? How long have you been working here, and do you like it?"

"I've been working here for two years and the work is okay. It's not really what I want to work with but it's fine for now."

"Oh, what would you like to do instead?" I ask her curiously.

"I have a degree in business management and economics. I would like to work with that, but all the positions in the business and economics department here are already taken and my job search hasn't led me anywhere. But it's fine, I still have hope that I'll find something perfect soon."

"I wish you the best of luck then! And tell me if there is something I can do."

"Thanks! I'll keep that in mind."

"So, is this your new minion Laura?" The woman next to Claire asks.

"Yes, this is Ana. Ana, this is Jane, one of the company's senior editors."

"Hi, nice to meet you," I say as I offer her my hand to shake.

"Likewise." She says with a smile. "Don't let the senior in my title fool you. I'm not as old as I look." She laughs.

"Jane! Stop fishing for compliments, you're as old as me and we look great." Laura says forcibly.

"Ah, it was worth a shot. You know the idiom flattery will get you anywhere is true. Especially with me." Jane winks while Claire and I chuckle.

"Good to know!" I smile at her.

"How's your new assistant?" Claire asks Jane.

"Hyde? I don't know yet, he has only been working here for a few hours. So far so good."

"Yes, but didn't you get an impression of him on his job interview?" Laura asks.

"Not really. I got his résumé from Roach and then he told me that he had hired an assistant for me and that he'll be starting today."

"Without asking you first? That's odd." Laura says.

"Tell me about it. But let's give the man a chance. Who knows maybe he will be a half good assistant."

"Did he have an impressive résumé at least?"

"He did go to Yale and has a degree in American literature, but that's about it. He doesn't really have any other experience."

"Huh," Laura says suspiciously.

"Laura let it go. You're like a bloodhound. I doubt that Ana here has any other experience before coming here, no offense." Jane says to me. "Give the man a chance. Besides we shouldn't be talking about that here or right now. So, focus on something else."

"But it's weird!" she proclaims.

"Yes, but not wrong. Roach is our boss and he owns the company. He is entitled to do whatever he wants. So, Ana tells me everything I need to know about yourself." Jane says to me to divert the conversation. And the rest of the lunch is spent on discussing the pros and cons of growing up in a small town versus a big city.

* * *

Besides the little discussion concerning the new recruit, the rest of the day went smoothly which meant that I didn't have to work late. My nervousness for the roommate situation has gone from zero to a hundred. Feeling jittery as I leave work with a quick goodbye to Laura I pack my things and head out the door. Stopping only briefly to pick up a six-pack of beer and a bottle of white wine on my way home. I figured that most men enjoy a beer but if not, the wine should be a good replacement. Walking down the street a thought startles me. What if he doesn't drink? Seeing a convenient store a few steps away I hurry inside to buy something that doesn't have alcohol. The store fridge is stocked to the brim with beverages of different colors and different levels of carbonation. Feeling overwhelmed I quickly whip out my phone to google "the most popular soda in the world" which according to the Huffington post is Coca-Cola. I grab a big bottle of it, pay for that and rush home to be in time for Elliot's move in.

I just put everything in the fridge and my purse on a barstool when I hear the buzz from the intercom.

"Hello?" I ask to the intercom even though I'm pretty sure that's Elliot. I mean who else would be stopping by?

"Hey, it's me, Elliot!" Suspicion confirmed, I think to myself.

"Hey, I'll buzz you right in. Do you need help carrying in stuff?"

"No, my brother is here helping me. I don't have that much to carry in."

"Okay!" I say as I buzz them in. The echoes of people walking up the stairs reach all the way here to the second floor. Which surprises me because we have an elevator in the building. Maybe they missed it? Or maybe they're just really healthy people that want to get their 10000 steps. The echo of their voices traveling up the stairwell. I hold up the door for them when I see two men coming up the stairs holding boxes. Elliot is first holding two large overnight bags.

"Welcome to your new home." I proclaim as Elliot walks in to the apartment with his brother following behind him holding two enormous moving boxes stacked on each other. They're big enough so that I can't see the person standing behind them. I move to take one of the boxes from his hands.

"Here let me help you," I tell him as I take the box that's standing in the way of his face. It's surprisingly heavy so with a grunt I put the box on the floor. I move to take the other box so that he can have his hands free but see that the already put it down next to the bags Elliot was carrying. I turn around to offer my hand.

"Ana, that's my brother Christian and he is exactly your type," Elliot says to me as he looks at us with a weird look. He almost looks mischievous which looks like his default expression. "Christian this is Ana."

"Nice to meet you," he says as he holds out his hand towards me. I take it and notice immediately how clammy my hand is. I quickly dry it off on my pants and put my hand in his. They're big and well-manicured in contrast to his brother's hands which are more dry and calloused. His eyes are piercing grey and he has a slight stubble. The copper colored hair on his head looks tousled and disheveled. Upon closer inspection, I notice that his body is muscled and well defined. The black t-shirt he has reveals toned arms and broad shoulders.

"Likewise." I smile. They are nothing alike but maybe they only have one parent in common. "Do you guys want something to drink? Before we start unpacking your stuff? If you want the help of course."

"What do you have to offer?" Elliot asks.

"Beer, wine, water, and coke," I answer him. "I wasn't sure what you drink or don't drink so I bought a little of each."

"Coke will be fine for me, but I can grab it myself. Is it in the fridge? What do you want Ana? Christian?"

I nod. "I'll take a beer, please."

"What wine is it?" Christian asks looking at me curiously.

"I don't know. I'm not really a wine connoisseur I just grabbed the first wine I saw that was within my budget, haha." I tell him awkwardly. Did I have to be that brutally honest? Now he's going to think that I'm either really poor or really cheap… probably the last option… great.

"That sounds interesting," Christian says suspiciously looking very skeptical. "I'll try it. Thanks."

"The glasses are in the cabinet above the sink…" I start.

"Don't tell me. I'll figure it out!" Elliot says excitedly as he walks towards the kitchen.

"Okay, suit yourself," I tell him with a wide smile. "Does Elliot have any more stuff?" I ask Christian.

"No, that's it."

"Wow, is he some kind of minimalist?" I ask him. "I'm not really sure that I could manage to pack down my whole life in two bags and two boxes."

"Not really, but he has never really held on to stuff. He uses his things until they break and if he can't fix them he either repurposes them or gets rid of them."

"I wish I had that kind of discipline. I'm more of a hoarder."

"Doesn't seem like it from the looks of your apartment."

"Oh, that's just straight up laziness. I haven't really had the motivation to go out and look for furniture."

"That's not really something that I enjoy doing either." He replies. After a few breaths, he asks awkwardly "So what is it that you do?"

His sudden awkwardness makes him somehow more endearing. He is really cute, or not even cute, handsome is a more accurate description of the man standing in front of me. There is something about his appearance that looks really familiar. It feels like I've seen him somewhere before. "I'm a graphic designer. I work as a cover art artist in a publishing house."

"Are you any good?" he asks.

"Good enough to get a job. I would like to think that I have an affinity for it. Are you good at your job?"

He gets a sly smirk. "I would say that I'm very good at my job."

"There you go. There is a reason why we work with the jobs we do. It feels like our generation has idealized work… you know that we have to find our purpose and whatnot and we are all supposed to love what we do. I don't know if that is entirely realistic in the long run, but I know that for now, it has worked for me, and if I read that smirk right then it has worked for you too."

Elliot walks towards us from the kitchen with our drinks in his hands.

"Wow, Ana did you paint this?"

Surprised I walk towards Elliot looking down at the half-finished painting. I take the wine glass and give it to Christian before taking my beer. "What? Oh, sorry I completely forgot about it. I have a tendency to spread out my stuff. I'll take that away if it's bothering you."

"What? No, it's great! Scratch that, it's awesome!"

"Thank you. Obviously, it's not finished yet but I'm getting there. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it when it's finished though. I don't have any room left for more paintings in my room."

"Then I will buy it from you," Christian says with his eyes glued to the canvas.

"Sorry?" I ask him surprised.

"I will buy it from you," Christian says looking me in the eyes again. His grey eyes look resolute. I study him closely. And as I do there is something that clicks inside of me. I know somehow that he is somebody very special. I am what I like to call a realistic romantic. I love the idea of romanticism, but I also get that it isn't always feasible. All the books, movies, songs tell a very beautiful and sweet story, but, that is everything that it is – a story. Yet, maybe there is more to those stories that I ever knew because, somehow, I just know that the man standing in front of me is the one for me. Or maybe, I just lost my mind.

I look at the painting again before looking at him. "If you like the painting that much then I'll just give it to you when it's finished."

"You don't have to do that," Christian says slowly. "Time is money. Just let me pay you for your trouble."

"Trust me, Ana, he can afford it," Elliot interjects. Christian nods quickly agreeing with his brother.

"I don't care. You either take it for free or not at all." I say determined.

"I don't understand. Don't you want something from me?" Christian asks confused.

"No. I just want you." I blink at him before taking my drink and walk towards the sofa. Begging to the universe that everything will turn out alright.


	4. Step 4 - Packing Up

**Chapter 4 - Packing Up**

Christian's POV

I looked at her retreating form, more specifically her swaying hips as she walked towards the sofa, with an incredulous look. I look down at the painting that started this whole thing. The waves crashing before my eyes representing the tumultuous thoughts running through my head at all times. I can't believe that the girl is willing to give up the painting without any kind of compensation. Either she is unbelievingly kind or incredibly stupid. Doesn't she see how talented she is? There is fucking proof literary in front of her eyes. Doesn't she know how much I'm worth? Lately, I've been appearing on the paper and on different magazines. It seems that my face is inescapable, to the point that I've been forced to hire a publicist. But, even in the unlikely chance that she has no clue of who I am even Elliot reassured her that I could afford to pay her, but, no. Thinking back on her comments there is no way that she is stupid or at least that stupid. That opens up a new possibility that she is kind, which I find hard to believe. If there is something consistent in my life is that people always want something from me. Whether it be material things like money or immaterial things like love. I believe that every interaction in this world is based on selfishness. We don't interact with a person unless they give us something in return. It doesn't matter if your fucking mother Theresa because I bet that the only reason she helps people that much is because the feeling she gets when doing good deeds. Not even she would help people if it felt bad. She is, like everyone else, a product of selfish acts.

That's why I find this offer so hard to believe. Nobody does anything just to be kind… ever.

"Isn't she great?" Elliot asks me drinking a big gulp of his coke. "I give you my permission to date her if you'd like."

"Who the fuck are you? Her father?" I ask him irritated but amused. He has known her for what fifteen minutes and he already thinks that he can dictate who she can and can't date.

"No, but as of today, she is my roommate. So, guy code dictates that you have to ask for my permission to date her or fuck her, for that matter, so that things don't become weird."

"That's bullshit. You can't stand between two persons if they want to do either of those things. We live in America, we can do whatever the fuck we want."

"This is the reason why you don't have any friends," Elliot says with a smirk and a dry laugh. "It's not just your relationship that is at stake if it were to end badly you know. And it's me that has to live with her at the end, not you."

"I don't want friends if they tell me what I can and can't do."

He rolls his eyes. Hasn't anyone told him that that's rude? "That's not what you said a few days ago," Elliot says. "You don't have to date her if she's not your type… you could become friends."

I feel myself squint as I look at him. The staredown ends with a quick shrug and a chuckle from Elliot as he walks toward the couch. The apartment is sparsely decorated. The walls are painted a light grey color with various different art pieces scattered in a seemingly random way. A white storage system stood against the wall filled with trinkets and a speaker. Directly in front of it was two wooden chairs that looked custom made and expensive. The caning of the chair was an intricate chevron pattern made from different, light wood tones. It was exquisite. The sofa was a direct contrast to the armchair, it looked cheap and worn like it was second hand or like she had had it for a very long time. Ana, had her back towards me, giving me the opportunity to appreciate her slender neck and shiny hair. Her obviously thick, brown hair was in a low ponytail. The base of the ponytail looked twirled giving me flashbacks to the princess movies Mia made us watch when were younger. Her skin looks soft and almost creamy, making me wonder how it would feel to touch her and if the skin of her neck is different from the skin from the rest of her body.

Not so long ago I was interviewed for Entrepreneur magazine and the journalist asked me 'To what do you owe your success?'. I gave him some bullshit answer that I really don't remember right now, thinking that a bullshit question deserves a bullshit answer. That evening as I sat eating my dinner alone, catching up on the newspaper when I stopped and thought about my success. In four years I had managed to amass a fortune that most people only dream of. My company was very successful and by societies standards, and most importantly my standards, I'm a very accomplished man. To what do I owe my success? It's not a what is a who – me. Hard work and determination is the reason for my success. In the end, I broke down my useful traits - logic, math, and instincts. When I search for companies to acquire I look for specific things; profit, leadership, and value. Logic determines what I should look after, math determines if it is truly a good deal and instinct determines the long-term investment value. Because sometimes all the math in the world just doesn't add up.

Later that same week as I interviewed countless different applicants for the new head of human relations position that was available in my company I realized that something was missing from my success equation – people. I'm not afraid to say it, my company wouldn't be where it is now without the help from employees. But, yet again, the common denominator is me. I'm the one who hires them and I'm the one who leads them towards success. I've needed to fire people two times since I started my company and both of them have been assistants. Generally, I would say that I have a knack for knowing peoples true intentions. The problem with people is that they change and so does their intentions. But, as I stared at Ana's neck, I realized that I couldn't get a sense of her and that her intentions remained unknown to me. What the hell did she mean with her 'I just want you' comment?

Did she mean financially? Because if so then she is not the first gold digger to try persuading me to start a relationship. Even so, that is improbable since she denied any kind of payment for her painting. Unless she is counting this as a favor. Which I resent, I hate feeling like I owe people something. Did she mean romantically? I hoped not, because I don't know how to handle that kind of emotions. She would just get disappointed because I don't do love. Frankly, I don't have time for love. My company doesn't run itself. And I'm just fine without it. Did she mean sexually? That made me nervous, really nervous, which in turn pissed me off. I'm Christian Trevelyan Grey I don't get fucking nervous. Yet, the subject of sex makes me shit my pants. Fucking virginity – what a stupid concept. Just the thought of my lack of experiences gave me a headache. I doubt that the girls that are after me would be as keen if they knew that their eligible bachelor is a virgin. They'd probably revoke the title. And, the assholes that I do business with would most definitely care. They wouldn't say it to my face, but, they would think something along the lines of "what's wrong with him?" or "what's his problem?".

Haphephobia, the fear of being touched, is my problem. I haven't gone to a shrink since high school, but it is still a very real part of my life. How could I let virtually a stranger touch me when I couldn't even give my family that right? It isn't like I haven't had the chance before, but I don't want to be in that kind of compromising position. I won't let anyone have that kind of power over me. Sure, I could tie her hands but if I don't trust her to not touch me or at least try to touch me. Imagine that I would choose a touchy girl and she manages to touch my "forbidden" areas, it probably wouldn't end well for her. In those kinds of situations, I act instinctively and violently, as seen in my high school records. All my high school fights started by guys that mockingly didn't know how to keep their hands to themselves, they all regretted touching me afterward. But, still, say that a girl hypothetically breaks down my proverbial walls and somehow, I manage to let that person in. She would probably leave because all the money in the world isn't worth the suffering I most likely would put them through. Abandonment issues, commitment issues, and haphephobia – a glorious trifecta of shittiness that is my personality.

I sit down on the sofa next to Elliot deliberately making as much space between Ana and me as possible can and sip my cheap wine. It is awful as expected. There is a slightly uncomfortable silence between us.

"Maybe I should go now that your things are up, Elliot. So, that you two get a chance to get to know each other." I offer as I stand up, put the glass of wine on the coffee table and subconsciously wipe my hands on my jeans.

"No can do dear brother, you need to help me unpack," Elliot says looking me in the eye with a smirk.

"You have two boxes and two bags, I think that you can do it on your own."

"No, you promised to help. You haven't fulfilled your duty yet." The idiot says with a mockingly bad British accent, I felt bad for English people everywhere.

"Elliot, I have better things to do than helping you unpack your underwear."

"Just sit your pretty little ass down on the sofa. It's Friday afternoon your company won't go bankrupt because you take a Friday night off. Down that wine and get yourself another glass because you need to relax." He pauses and looks at Ana. "I'm sorry, Ana. My brother is an asshole with a heart of gold don't let his rude behavior scare you off."

"Don't worry about me. The only thing I need is popcorn. It is very interesting to see you squabble. I don't have any siblings, so, I find this endearing."

"Just wait until you meet our sister then." Elliot laughs. "The girl has us both wrapped around her finger… especially Christian."

"She does not." I huff. Nobody has me wrapped around their finger.

"You bought her a car, Christian," Elliot says forcibly. "What do you call that?"

"Generosity." I deadpan.

"Must be nice to have such a close family." Ana laughs.

"It is." Elliot replays.

"Are you close to your family, Ana?" I ask her before my oversharing brother shares something stupid. Like the fact that I've barely spoken to my father for months and that I was obsessed with Snow Patrol in the 90's.

"Yes, I would say so. But, I guess is hard not to be close to your family when you have a small family." She says awkwardly.

"Are we talking immediate family or your whole family?" Elliot asks curiously.

"My immediate family consists of three people – mom, dad, and Kate."

"How can you only have three members?" Elliot says shockingly.

"Well, my 'real' father died when I was born. My mother's family disowned her when she became pregnant with me. She was very young when she became pregnant with me and my step-father's family was very small, to begin with, but they lost touch. He talks with his brother once a month, but I haven't seen my uncle since I was five?" she asks herself.

"How about your biological father's family?" I ask hesitantly. For better or worse I have quite a large family. I am immensely thankful for them. They took care of me when I needed them the most. Even if I'm not really sure that I trust them completely.

"Don't really know much about them. My mom said that my grandmother stopped talking to her when she met my dad because she thought that she had moved on too quickly." She shrugs. "I have all I need with my parents. So, you have a big family I presume?"

"We're three children, us two and our sister Mia. We're all adopted that's why we don't look alike." Elliot tells her excitedly. He has always been this excited when talking about his family, it doesn't matter if he was six or 27. "Our dad is a layer and our mother is a pediatrician…" starting his well-practiced monologue.

I remember the time when I wished that I was more like Elliot - easygoing, carefree and loveable. Everybody is just drawn to him, it doesn't matter what your gender is or what age you have, everybody loves Elliot. It's the same for Mia, she is just even more loveable. Growing up with a seemingly perfect family made me feel like an outcast. It is hard not being perfect when everyone around you is. Obviously, I knew that they weren't perfect. Elliot loved partying a little too much, Mia is spoiled, even I can see that my dad is a workaholic in the highest degree and my mom is afraid of conflict. Everyone has their faults, I know that, but I just couldn't see them.

When the girl Elliot liked died he became more like me. Gone was the partying guy that didn't give a fuck about anything. All of the sudden there was this very serious and sad person that I've never seen before. I saw myself in him that day on the deck and I realized that I was mourning as well. I don't know what really but from that day onward I promised Elliot, even though I never said it out loud, that I would try and be a better brother and son. It has worked for the most part except with my father. I just don't know what to tell him. Honestly, I expect an apology from him and not the other way around. I'm not going to apologize for doing the right thing for me.

"Christian?" Elliot says expectantly while Ana watches me intently.

"What?" I ask impatiently.

"Ana asked you a question," Elliot says looking at me irritated.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"I just asked you what you did for a living," Ana said.

"I'm in mergers and acquisitions," I say vaguely.

"Wow, cool. Do you know this new guy that's on all the magazines? I think he has his own company and is making big bucks… what's his name? Christopher Gay? Christian Hay?" Elliot starts laughing hysterically and I can't keep my smirk away. Ana looks at us confused until her face goes pale when the realization hits. She looks embarrassed as she laughs softly. "Your him, right?"

I nod, laughing gently. A strong blush covers her cheeks and she presses her lips together quickly before speaking again. "Wow, that's really impressive. Congratulations on your success."

"Thank you," I say gratefully for her compliment. My company has been running since I was 19 and nobody except my family has congratulated me and actually meant it. Most people usually say it with a tinge of jealousy or contempt. But, when she said it was pure admiration.

"Wow, it seems like your whole family knows what they're doing." She says. "They have to be very proud to have you two as their sons." She continues.

"Why do you say that?" Elliot asks her incredulous. "I'm not a self-made millionaire like him."

"Well, I know nothing about that. But, I get an impression from you that you're a very loveable man. The way you talk about your family, obviously, they mean a lot, and you put them first. That in itself is a very admirable trait." Ana says honestly. In the limited amount of time that I've spent with Ana, I've learned that she is very earnest. It isn't necessarily that she doesn't have a filter, but, that she has an opinion and chooses to share it more often than not.

Elliot in the meanwhile looks thoughtful. It seems like she has given him something to think about. "Thank you." He says almost shyly. Ana just nods and shrugs.

"Well, I'm getting hungry," Ana says. "What do you want to do? Should we order pizza or something, or do you want nachos? We have all the ingredients at home."

Neither of the options sounds especially appetizing in my mind. One sounds like greasy tomato bread and the other like grease covered chips with meat. I would just like to go home and eat any of the healthier options Gale has at home. In other words, it's time for me to go home.

The apartment feels empty and too large without Elliot here. The modernly decorated apartment feels almost too sterile after being at Ana's apartment. You could see Ana's tastes and though fullness in every inch of her apartment, every piece and furniture carefully curated. Meanwhile, my apartment even though it is elegant, it doesn't really feel "homey". I walk towards the kitchen and see that there is a casserole covered with aluminum on the stove. The note on top of it reads "Zucchini Lattice Lasagna".

After the very satisfying meal, I sit down on the sofa with a good glass of wine and jazz playing in the background. Should I work now? For the first time in a long time, I don't really feel like working tonight. I don't have any other friends to be with and Elliot is at home with his new best friend. There is nothing on the TV, not that I feel like watching something, and not focused enough to read. As I swirl the wine around in the glass my phone starts to ring. There are very few people that would call at this hour unless it was an emergency, so I don't bother looking at the caller ID.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Christian?" someone sniffs into the phone. "It's Mia." Her voice breaks at the end.

"What happened? Where are you? I'm going to get you."

"You don't have too. But, can I sleep at your place tonight?" she asks hopefully.

"Yes, of course," I say hurriedly. What the hell has happened? "But, I can come and get you. I'm on my way to the car now. Where are you?" Why doesn't she just give me her address, so I can come and get her? Luckily, I've only drunk that one awful glass of wine tonight.

"I'm home and I don't want to be alone." She sniffs.

I feel myself relax when she says that she's home at least she isn't at some loser's house wasted. "Of course, what happened, Mia? Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? Where are our parents?"

"No, I'm not hurt. Or at least not that kind of hurt." She says vaguely. "But, I'm fine Christian. I can drive there. I'll see you in about 20 minutes."

The twenty minutes feel like twenty years. My mind keeps going to different kind of scenarios that could've happened to her on the way home. Distracted driving, someone has collided with her or the more likely option, she has collided with someone because she can't see well when she's crying. Why in the hell did I let her drive here? I should've just gone over there and picked her up. What has happened? Mia almost never cries. She is a ray of sunshine, which means that something serious must've happened. But why is she calling me? I always thought that she would call Elliot first if something were to happen. She probably did, but he didn't answer his phone or something. I pace around the apartment waiting for her when I hear the elevator pling to let me know that someone is coming up. Giving a quick glance at my watch I see that 17 minutes have passed since I last spoke to Mia.

"Hey." She says as she walks into the living room with me following her footsteps. "I brought candy and movies."

She is wearing her black satin pajamas with printed roses on top. Her short hair is pointing towards all the directions at once. Her face is make-up free, something I've barely seen since she was fourteen-fifteen and started wearing it. There are redder splotches on her face from her crying.

She turns around towards me and sees the kitchen. "Oh, I know what we could do. We could bake! Yes, let's see what you have in here."

Mia has been here for about five minutes and she has already managed to give me whiplash. I don't know what to say, so I just say nothing at all, and follow her blindly wherever she goes. She rummages through the cabinets looking for ingredients and after just a few minutes she has an impressive haul on the kitchen sink.

"Perfect, we could make chocolate chip cookies with the M&M's that I brought." My sister looks at me hopefully.

"I'll go get the candy," I say as I walk to get her bag.

After roughly forty-five minutes of me staring and engaging in light conversation with Mia, we both sit on the sofa watching some movie she brought with her. Not much of my attention actually go to the movie, but, to my sister sitting next to me. She still hasn't told me why she is or was so upset. I'm afraid of asking her and setting off the tears. I'm not good at consoling people, especially not girls. My question gets its answer as soon as Mia starts speaking again.

"You might be wondering what happened." She starts as I nod. "You know Sean? My boyfriend… I broke up with him today."

"Why? Did he hurt you?" I ask her carefully. The last thing I heard her say to our mom was that she was going to marry him someday.

"No." She pauses for a few seconds. "He hasn't hurt me."

"I don't understand."

"I just feel like our timing is off. I love him, I do, I really do. But, senior, year is coming up you know, because I skipped 6th grade and I need to focus on school and college and life after school. And it just feels like our break-up was this impending thing that just kept hovering over our heads and I just wanted to get it over with, you know?" she nods to herself as two answer her own question. "This way we can 'live our lives' like everyone keeps telling us. We can be wild and crazy or whatever people our age are supposed to do."

"I think Elliot did it enough for the whole family," I mutter not really intending for her to hear my snide comment.

Mia looks at me surprised and laughs wholeheartedly. "Hey, I knew that you could be funny. Shady but funny." She continues to laugh softly for a few moments until she looks at me again with tears in her eyes. "Did I do the right thing, Christian?"

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. She nods and diverts her gaze back at the TV screen not really expecting a more elaborate answer from me. I'm not really good at this, but I decide to try it anyway.

"Well, I know nothing about relationships so I'm not even going to touch the subject. But, Mia, where is this pressure coming from? You sound extremely stressed. Is it dad?"

"What?! No, it's not dad." She licks her lips quickly while gathering her thoughts. "You know how big of a deal college is around here. It feels like we're constantly competing over who is the best family. Sean is pretty much guaranteed to start at some fancy school next year but just the thought of going to some stuffy college makes me sick. I really don't want to do that."

"Mia, screw that. Tell me, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know." She says meekly with a high pitch voice. That has always been her tell. She gets a high pitch voice when she is lying.

"You do know. You just don't want to say it." I say to her. "You don't have to say it, I don't really care really. The only person your screwing over is yourself." I continue. I grab a cookie and sink down on the sofa and try to focus on the film again. What was it about?

"Baking and cooking." She whispers.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask her confused.

"It's what I really want to do." She says a little more forcibly.

"Then do it," I tell her simply.

"It isn't that simple." She says.

"Really?" I ask her incredulously. "What's standing in your way?"

"It isn't a viable career."

"Says who?"

"Common sense."

"That's bullshit," I tell her with conviction. I feel my temper simmer underneath my skin. I'm really trying to keep in mind that she's in the brink of tears, but, my patience is quickly disappearing.

"No, it's not," Mia says.

I take a deep breath and count to 10. "Mia, if there's anyone in this world who can actually afford to not have a viable career it's you. And being a chef or a baker is a viable career, especially if you're a good one. You could work at a place like Altura or start your own restaurant. A bad career choice would be teaching people how to talk to dogs or something like that. You are being silly right now and way overcomplicating things. Don't let anybody tell you what you can and can't do, it won't get you anywhere. And, could we watch this movie now?"

She looks at my profile for what feels like for a few minutes before she kisses my cheek and lays down fully on the sofa putting her feet in my lap. And for the rest of the night, we just eat cookies and watch romantic movies until we both fell asleep on the sofa.


End file.
